


Lions' Gold (a translation)

by itamaraty



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pegging, Sibling Incest, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itamaraty/pseuds/itamaraty
Summary: Prompt: “Cersei/Jaime, Cersei fucks him.  How she does it is up to you.”





	Lions' Gold (a translation)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [oro para leones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/233922) by [zelsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelsh/pseuds/zelsh). 
  * A translation of [oro para leones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/233922) by [zelsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelsh/pseuds/zelsh). 



> This is one of the first fics I ever enjoyed in ASOIAF fandom and it was my pleasure to do a translation of it. The credit goes to zelsh for such a hot and well-executed idea!

 

The room is in shadow when she says it, so Jaime finds it hard to read the expression on her face.  The candle is at the fourth mark, which reminds him he ought to leave soon, but Cersei is relaxed against the pillows and her curls are gleaming in the light, and so.

“I already have a brother,” he says, cleaning his spilled seed from his stomach with a bit of cloth that he hopes isn’t actually his doublet.

Cersei moves under the red sheets and even in the darkness Jaime can see the shadow of her hand, rubbing between her legs in little circles.

“No, I mean a _real_ one.”  Cersei smiles at him and her hand stops for a moment, leaving its place underneath the sheets to rest on her forearm.  Jaime can feel how damp her fingers must be against her skin.  “Me, but a man.”

Jaime’s cock is spent, but this doesn’t keep it from twitching against his legs, wanting to get hard again.  There’s something about the way Cersei smells that drives him wild and that clouds his senses, his cock a magical artifact that has been controlling him since he could remember.  In fact, if his sister’s cock were king, Jaime never would have had a conflict of loyalties and now the most they could ever call him would be “Flyslayer.”

Jaime exhales.

“Are you thinking about getting me a little brother?  Because I’m not sure if Father is up to that,” he says, only half-joking, running his hand through his hair.

Cersei’s hand appears and hits him, knocking him onto the bed.  Jaime sighs.

“I have to go do guard duty for your husband.”

“My husband doesn’t need a guard to fuck all of King’s Landing,” she murmurs, kissing his neck.

The bed dips underneath their weight, the silk sheets slippery against their skin while Cersei licks each protest from his lips before he can even think them.  When Jaime is beginning to forget where he ought to be (not here) and what he ought to be doing (not this), his sister’s right tit in his hand, Cersei pulls away.  There’s only a tiny bit of space between them now, but Jaime hates that tiny bit of space with all his might.

“So anyway, have you thought about it at all?”

“No.  I don’t know.  What the fuck do you want me to say, Cersei?”  Jaime intends to go back to kissing her, but Cersei stops him with a hand on the side of his neck, her thumb pressing against his Adam’s apple in a gesture that shouldn’t have been as dangerous or erotic as it was.

“I want you to tell me if you’ve ever imagined what it would be like if I were a man,” she says, and she scrapes her thumbnail across his skin.  Her eyes gleam like the water at the bottom of a well.

“No, never…”  Jaime tries to smile, but Cersei’s gaze is so intense that he feels like he’s sweating, his old sweat and the new mixing on his skin. He swallows.  “But I guess fucking you like that wouldn’t be half as fun as it is now.”

“Oh, you think?”  Cersei trails her tongue across the side of his face, drawing a line from his mouth to his earlobe.  Her breath is hot against his ear.  “Because I think it would be _more_ fun.”

Jaime moves away, wrinkling his eyebrows.

“I’m not interested in fucking men,” he says, feeling a bit stupid for having to clear this up.  Cersei just smiles and strokes his hair, her mouth finding his ear again and her leg curling around his own.  The warmth of her skin makes his breath speed up.

“But it wouldn’t be fucking a _man_ , Jaime.  It would be fucking _your brother_.”  As she talks, her hand slides slowly down the nape of his neck, her lips brushing against the curve of his ear.  “Me.”  Two fingers find his nipple and touch it, first in circles and then with more force, pinching until Jaime gasps.

“Think about it, Jaime.  It would be like fucking yourself.”

Cersei’s hand slides downwards and Jaime moans when it nears his erection, which pulses against his stomach in time to his heartbeat.  But Cersei doesn’t touch his cock; instead, she traces around it with two fingers, back and forth.

“The same hair, the same lips, the same hands.  The same cock.”  And the way in which Cersei is talking about her cock, her tongue wetting the curve of his ear, makes his cock twitch and grow harder.  “The same cock _you_ have, your brother’s cock, fucking you.  Slow and deep, Jaime.”

Cersei’s hand circles his balls and slips between his ass cheeks, a place on Jaime’s body that’s rarely explored but where it now seems every single one of his nerve endings are concentrated.  Cersei’s finger keeps moving, and Jaime’s legs flex involuntarily.

“Deeper than anyone’s ever before, Jaime.  It would be perfect,” Cersei keeps saying, and then her finger finds his asshole and she begins to trace it with her fingertip, and all of Jaime’s air escapes him all at once.  Cersei whispers, “As much inside of you as you are inside of me.”

This fantasy, this type of incestuous sublimation, might not be his own but he suddenly couldn’t care less.  It’s claustrophobic and a bit twisted and Jaime has hardly any idea what he’s saying yes to but he can’t stop saying it ( _yes, yes, of course, yes, Cersei, yes)_ and before he knows it, Cersei’s fucking him with three fingers and the room smells of Dornish oils.

“Wait.”  Cersei pulls away, her fingers roughly leaving his ass.  She leans over to the other side of the bed, her hair falling in a golden cascade across her back.

Jaime has a half-hearted protest at the tip of his tongue, but before he can say anything, his sister comes back with something in her hands that looks like—

“What the _fuck_ is that?”

Cersei doesn’t answer, and really, she doesn’t have to because it’s all too obvious.  Jaime wants to make a joke about the Lannisters and golden cocks, but Cersei turns him over on the bed roughly, her hands wrapping around hips with surprising strength.

“On all fours, Jaime.”

“What—?”

“Do you need the Hound to come explain it to you?  On.  All.  Fours,” she growls, and Jaime growls back but obeys, feeling his cheeks heat up from the shame but also something else that has his cock leaking on the sheets and his asshole throbbing.

Jaime buries his head in his hands and sticks his ass in the air, but Cersei grabs him by the hair and pulls upwards.  She licks his ear and whispers, “No, don’t hide.  I want to see your face while I fuck you.”

Jaime moans and closes his eyes, biting his lips so he doesn’t say what’s on the tip of his tongue.  The flame flickers and casts deep shadows in the corners of the room, in the valleys of Cersei’s body, in the most hidden parts of Jaime’s.  But Cersei doesn’t need light to know what she’s doing, and she fucks Jaime with her fingers in a rhythm that’s first frenetic, and then too slow.  She curls her fingers in all directions inside of him and then suddenly pulls them out without warning.  Jaime cries out because he’s never felt that close to coming before, not even that time when Cersei tied a bit of cloth around his cock and tugged at it for hours and now he doesn’t even care how pathetic he sounds because he _needs_ to come.

When he feels he can’t take it anymore, that sooner or later he’ll start to beg for everything he’s never begged for in his fucking life, he feels something huge and cold pressing against his ass.  The metallic feeling makes him breathe in all the air from the room at once, and when it starts moving unyieldingly inside him, Jaime feels faint.

 “Ahhh, fuck.  Fuck.  Ah!”

 “Shhh, it’s almost all in,” Cersei says, kissing his cheeks and brushing his sweaty hair from his forehead.

His sister lies against him, her tits pressing against his back and her hair falling like a curtain around him, and Jaime feels so full he might split in half.  Cersei waits a bit, waits too little, before sliding the golden cock into his ass in little circular movements, pressing against parts of him that make Jaime pant and grab at his own cock wildly.  Cersei slaps his hand away.

“None of that,” she says, her voice hoarse, and she begins to penetrate him with gusto.

The gold has heated up from the heat of their skin ** _,_** and now it is a warm, impossibly hard mass that penetrates him with his sister’s frantic rhythm, while she keeps whispering bits of phrases in his ear that he can only half-understand ( _Jaime_ and _fuck you…I’ve always wanted…_ and _…I made this cock for you, to…fuck myself when…for…it is like yours…exactly…the same)_ and Jaime can’t bear it anymore, so he begins to push his ass back against her to allow the golden cock deeper inside him, and then forward to rub his own cock against the sheets, and it only takes a few thrusts more and then he’s comingcomingcoming with an orgasm so violently that it has his head spinning for minutes.

In the middle of the stupidity brought on by his orgasm he’s vaguely aware of Cersei wiping the golden cock on the sheets and then thrusting it into her cunt once, twice, three times before moaning and falling beside him on the bed, her curls clinging to the curve of her neck.

Jaime breathes and takes one of those golden locks, winding it around his index finger.  He counts to 80 and clears his throat.

“So.  A golden cock.”

 “I have to keep myself entertained _somehow_ when you’re not here.”

Jaime wants to say that he’s always here, or maybe that he knows Cersei has plenty of ways to entertain herself, but instead of that he says:

“Yes, but _golden…_ ”

He smiles, and Cersei gets out of bed, her golden curls unwinding from his finger. Jaime leans against the pillows and watches as his sister wraps herself in an emerald robe.  “Who in the seven hells makes those things, anyway?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised by what the jewelers are willing to do for the Queen.”

And Jaime wants to say no, in reality it doesn’t surprise him at all, and while he doesn’t know what he’d do for other queens he knows that for this one, _fuck!_ , for this one he would go off to any war, kill any king, capture any fortress—but in place of all that, he blows her a kiss and Cersei leaves the room, the fabric of her robe swirling like the ocean waves around her ankles.

 


End file.
